


Dolcissimo

by asnailbee



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon, Morning After, Music, Piano, Romantic Fluff, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asnailbee/pseuds/asnailbee
Summary: "As the last notes hung in the air, Ferdinand let his head fall back with a sigh. A breeze rolled in. The curtains billowed. A single bead of sweat rolled down his back. The hand that had been resting on Dorothea’s lips slid down to rest on her chest as she let out a shaky exhale."--Dorothea takes a moment on her honeymoon to watch her husband play the piano.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 22
Kudos: 93





	Dolcissimo

Dorothea awoke to the sun in her eyes. 

It was an oppressively hot day. The air was heavy, the light was hazy, and the windows were flung open to let in a gentle breeze. Judging from how the sun hung in the sky, it was just past noon. Dorothea had not intended to sleep the day away. She had actually risen quite early, ready to make the most of the precious time she had been granted to spend with her new husband. Her husband, who had gazed upon her so sweetly in the morning light, eyes full of wonder and hunger, face flushing slightly as he told her he had dreamt of her. Dorothea had asked him, lips quirking, what kind of dream it was and one thing led to another and well, here she was.

Sprawled out in bed, damp with sweat, hair wild, a single sheet tangled around her naked form. 

Dorothea sat up, wiping sleep and sweat from her eyes, and realized that Ferdinand was no longer in bed with her. She could hazard a guess at where he was—drinking tea, penning letters, lost in some noble pursuit or another. Relaxing didn’t come easy to Ferdinand. He was always up and about, flitting from one activity to the next. The rare moments he had taken for himself over the past few days were no different. But she couldn’t fault him for that—it was one of the things she loved about him. 

Dorothea would have been content to stay in bed a bit longer, but she figured she should check on Ferdinand, make sure he wasn’t working too hard. She rose from the bed, collected her robe from the floor, and made her way to the vanity for a glass of water and to do something about that hair. Dorothea sat at the mirror and stared at her reflection for a moment. She looked absolutely horrific—a flushed, disheveled mess—but she was so happy that she couldn’t help but smile. Picking up her brush, she began to hum to herself as she worked the tangles out of her hair. And then, almost as if on cue, she heard it—

The warm, rich timbre of a piano. 

Dorothea knew that Ferdinand had been playing for most of his life—he loved to remind her that mastery of an instrument is a true hallmark of nobility—and he had accompanied her as she sang on many occasions. Dorothea strained her ears to listen to the distant tune. It was quite lovely, whatever it was. She tried to return to the task at hand, but her thoughts kept wandering back to Ferdinand. There was something about the idea of him playing for himself that she found very alluring. It seemed so intimate, so romantic. She had to see it for herself. 

Dorothea quietly followed the sound down the hallway and into the study. The heady scent of flowers from the garden below hung thick in the air, and the room was drenched with sun. The light came through the windows in thick beams, illuminating the dust motes that floated through the air and casting a warm glow over everything it touched. At the center of the room sat Ferdinand—bare from the waist up, his fiery hair all lit up and draped over one shoulder.

Dorothea froze in the doorway, hand covering her mouth, afraid that her presence would disturb him. But after a moment, it became clear that he was deaf to everything but the music. The piece he had selected was enchanting. It flowed like water, slow and sensual, full of nostalgia and longing. Dorothea couldn’t see Ferdinand’s face, but she imagined that his eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration. Just as Dorothea felt her own eyes begin to slip shut, the music began to build in intensity. She opened her eyes to the sight of Ferdinand leaning into the chords, the muscles in his back contracting and releasing, his breathing audible. His body moved with each swell of the music, his hands traveling deftly across the keys. The sight of Ferdinand surrendering himself completely and totally to the music was intoxicating. It was divine. 

The intensity ebbed away into the same sweet longing from before, but with a newfound passion. As notes tumbled one over the other in dizzying arpeggios, Dorothea noticed how Ferdinand’s wedding band caught the light, and her heart swelled with pride. 

The music slowed and quieted. Ferdinand played the last series of chords with a tenderness so great that Dorothea felt her eyes well up. As the last notes hung in the air, Ferdinand let his head fall back with a sigh. A breeze rolled in. The curtains billowed. A single bead of sweat rolled down his back. The hand that had been resting on Dorothea’s lips slid down to rest on her chest as she let out a shaky exhale. 

Ferdinand started, aware of her presence for the first time. He turned around to face her, his gaze softening. 

“Oh, hello, love. Did I wake you?” 

He smiled, and it was too much. Dorothea crossed the threshold of the room and closed the distance between them. She reached down to cup his face and kissed him, slowly and deeply. Ferdinand returned the kiss without hesitation, pulling her into his lap. When they parted, Dorothea took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to each finger. She met his gaze and there it was again—that wonder and hunger. Dorothea smiled and nuzzled into his neck—murmuring his name, murmuring praises, murmuring things that made his head spin. She could feel the heat creeping up Ferdinand’s chest, up his neck, burning from the inside out in the afternoon sun. 

Her lips trailed downwards until the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees, of birdsong, and of Ferdinand’s breathless moans.

It was the sweetest music she ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no way that Ferdinand, the most noble of nobles, doesn't play the piano, and I can not be convinced otherwise. The piece he is playing here is Chant élégiaque from Tchaikovsky's Eighteen Pieces, Op. 72. 
> 
> This is the first fic I've written since I was a literal child, so thank you so much for taking the time to read it! I want to send the biggest shout outs to thir13enth and Star_on_a_Staff for 1) being delightful human beings and 2) taking the time to help me out. You both have my eternal gratitude.


End file.
